


Closeness

by ladyoneill



Series: Lady O's Teen Wolf Bingo Stories [68]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 10:17:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1684745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoneill/pseuds/ladyoneill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Stiles researches, Derek hovers, and it drives Stiles nuts until it turns to something comfortable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closeness

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Cotton Candy Bingo prompt: space. I went with the personal kind.

"You really don't get the concept of personal space, do you?"

Derek's response is a low growl and a shove at his shoulder to push his face closer to his laptop screen.

Typical.

Rolling his shoulders and ignoring the shiver going through him and the desire to hunch, Stiles glares at the failure by google. "There's nothing here. I've tried every term I can think of. Whatever you saw in the Preserve doesn't exist."

"I saw it. It exists." Leaning over him, Derek starts typing, which basically means Stiles is bracketed by two very muscular arms and there's hot breath on his cheek.

"Hey, hey, hey, stop that!" Trying to wriggle away only gets lightly haired forearms pressed to his head. "Jesus, back off!"

"No."

"Fine, you google to your heart's content," Stiles snaps and ducks down and under one of Derek's arms. Escape means falling to the floor and crawling away, but it's not like he has any shame left. Flopping down on his bed, he glares at the werewolf now sitting in his desk chair hunting and pecking--Christ--at his laptop.

After ten minutes, the fingers start hitting the keys harder and Derek's shoulders draw up, obvious signs of frustration.

"You break it, you buy it."

"It's not working."

Derek moves the chair enough to reveal that Stiles prize laptop has blue screened of death.

"Hate you." Jumping up, he runs to his computer, pushing at Derek to get him out of the way and to stop him from hitting more keys and doing God knows what kind of damage.

"Personal space, Stiles," Derek mocks, rolling farther away.

"Asshole."

Derek snorts and, ignoring him, Stiles manages to get his laptop to reboot, first in safe mode, then normal. As Windows loads, he stands and cracks his back, then looks over at the werewolf lounging comfortably in his chair, legs stretched out in front of him, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

"Gimme back my chair."

"You have another one."

It's a dining room table chair, dragged up for those days when Lydia refuses to sit on his messy bed--it's uncanny how she knows when he hasn't changed the sheets after Stiles' time.

"Not comfy."

"Then maybe you'll be inspired to find me the information I need to know to identify and kill the thing slaughtering bunnies in the Preserve."

"Thought that was you," Stiles mumbles as he drags the hard backed chair over and winces when he sits his boney ass down on the thin cushion--he really needs to redo these things. He googled it once; it's not hard. Maybe change the color, except his mom picked these cushions out a few months before things got really bad...

"Stiles?"

That's not annoyance or frustration coming from the werewolf, and Stiles sighs.

"How is smelling emotion a thing?"

"It's not. It's more a combo of your posture, heart rate, expression," Derek answers softly. "Why are you sad?"

"Mom thought." Turning back to the computer and opening up Chrome, he doesn't realize Derek's moved the desk chair back over next to him until a hand lands lightly on his shoulder to squeeze. No apologies. No attempts to get him to talk. Just companionship. Understanding.

Closeness.

Okay, maybe the lack of space between them isn't a bad thing.

End


End file.
